Sold
by Castaway5
Summary: No matter how hard he tried, it seemed that he could never escape the world's endless oceans. It was where his journey had begun over a century ago. It might even be where it ended. Part 1 of the Sold Trilogy.


Hey look, I'm still alive!

So this is Part 1 of the Sold Trilogy. This trilogy is a project that I'm working on in my creative writing class over the next month. More of that after the story though.

This story takes place on the coast of West Africa sometime in the late 1700s.

**Disclaimer** Still workin on it.

* * *

_Sold_

Seabirds circled about overhead, their cries piercing the air and letting the world know of their presence. The birds rose and fell on the air currents; a heavy wind was blowing in from the ocean. In the distance a great storm was forming. Lightning split the clouds almost by the minute, but the thunder was still too far away to hear. Soon though, the storm would reach the mainland.

Soon, but not yet. There was still time to do what needed to be done. A teenager's hand tightened against the ancient rusted gate. Behind him something moved. From out of the shadows came a big, black labrador. It stood several feet away from the boy, as if awaiting orders. The boy did not look back to acknowledge his dog, too focused as it were on the storm, too caught up in his own memories.

Closing his eyes, the youth steeled himself for a moment before pushing the gate forward and slipping under the chain that held the two gates shut. Orange oxidized flakes fell from his rust stained hand as once again he stood at full height. The dog did not follow, although it could have if it had wanted to. In the pair's long existence, rarely did they do anything apart. Today would prove to be one of the rare exceptions.

After reaching back and grabbing the item he had just stolen from a nearby construction site, the boy walked forward. As if in a trance he walked forward until he was only a step away from the object that had often haunted his dreams over the decades. He was finally here, at the source of it all.

Dragging his gaze upwards, he surveyed the powerful storm on the horizon. From this distance he could feel flecks of spray being tossed up from the water and carried by the wind. Below the balcony were the sharp rocks that jetted up from the maw; readymade tombstones for the skeletons that lay at their bases. And the skeletons would still be there, after all this time, held in place by corroding chains.

From the depths of the boy's mind, rose a memory.

* * *

Ben stared at the dark skinned man, his gaze radiating a hate so intense that it scared himself a little. He had hated people before, but never had the feeling been this intense. He wanted The Man to remember him for the rest of his life; to think of the strange blue-eyed boy every time he made a profit off the selling of another human being. The Man who had been his tormentor for the past couple of weeks refused to look at him. Ben liked to think The Man felt his hate and feared it, that The Man would soon be spending his flesh money on foul tasting grog in some hole-in-the-wall after all this was over just so he could forget his sins. And forget the others he might, he would never forget the boy. Ben wanted to make sure of that.

In his mind, The Man didn't have a name. Others had called him Sir. Ben had called him other words. Early on The Man had punished the boy every opportunity he had gotten. As their group had gotten closer to the coast however, the beatings had stopped and the youth's rations stopped being cut. The journey had been long and many had perished along the way. Now they needed to look strong for their potential buyers. Ben knew that this applied especially to him. Slaves that met his description were extremely rare and always fetched high prices. The fact that he spoke French and Portuguese fluently only added to his value.

All around him stood the other slaves. Packed together by chains, Ben was the only Caucasian in the group, although he was not by far the youngest. For a moment the boy let off his glaring and let the harsh dry heat distract him. While there were only men present for today's bidding, it was only too easy to imagine women standing among them, hugging their children to their chests and wailing loudly when they were forced to be separated from them.

Sweat dripped down the boy's brow and he blinked repeatedly at the salty sting. He gave up with his glaring and glanced around. He was the only slave he could see that did not have their eyes either downcast, or raised slightly to star at the dark red stain that covered the cobble stones a few feet away from them. Around the group of slaves stood the guards, different ones Ben noted, than those who had made the journey with them. These were all armed with swords, although many of them carried rifles that seemed to be several years out of date. Directly in front of him stood the barred gate, and through the gate, sat the auction block. Beyond the auction block lay the sea, and beyond the sea…

No matter how hard he tried, it seemed that he could never escape the world's endless oceans. It was where his journey had begun over a century ago. Not for the first time in his life did Ben wonder if he would have been happier drowning off the coast of Cape Horn. Certainly he would have experienced less pain and encountered less evil during his and Ned's eternal travels. A ripple among the crowd broke Ben away from his sudden train of thought. The guards were getting restless now and The Man had disappeared from sight. Ben hoped that it would be the last he would ever see of him. It was The Man who had taken him from the village he and Ned had been staying at. That was a long time ago.

Ned had followed at first, making up the distance by traveling at night. It had been nerve-wracking going the entire day without hearing a thought from his dog. Tired as he was each night, Ben would stay up until he heard from his friend. The reunions were always tearful, but they gave him the strength to continue on. And then one day Ned didn't come. The youth stayed up the entire night waiting, praying that any minute the Labrador would come into range. That moment did not come.

When the sun rose, he was forced to continue. At the end of the long forced march he had fallen asleep the moment they had stopped to rest. He had let it happen; partly because of how exhausted he was, but mostly because he needed to hear from the Angel. If he was going to survive another day in these conditions, he was going to need something to hold onto. Shortly after his capture he had suspected that the Angel wanted him to end up where this group of slavers was going. It was the only reason he had not tried to escape already. But now he needed something more. That night in his dreams, he got it.

After that, Ben had toughened up. He had been told that he would live. That many hard trials lay ahead of him, but at the end of them all he would be reunited with his dog. This last fact was all he had cared about. He knew he had what it takes to survive. Now it was his duty to make sure that others did too.

The boy's attention was diverted by a guard strolling over and unlocking the gate. The other captives shuffled nervously and despite himself Ben's stomach did a little flip. Gritting his teeth, he tried to reel in his nerves. He reminded himself that this wasn't the first, or even the second time he had actually been inducted into slavery. Ironically, Ned hadn't been with him during either of those times. No, he was scared because the results of these situations always ended badly for him. Usually somebody died.

As the gates were dragged open, an overweight guard grabbed a slave several persons down the line and unlocked the chains before leading him by the arm towards the block. The slave did not fight, clearly resigned to his fate. Ben wondered what he would do when it was his turn. Should he struggle? Speak out against his captors? There would be no hope for escape unless he wanted to jump over the edge of the balcony. He entertained the idea briefly before dismissing it. More guards had appeared to line the very edge he had just been thinking of. Evidently Ben wasn't the first person to have that thought cross their mind. Besides, suicide was definitely not his style. He and Ned were fighters. He hadn't even started whatever job it was he was supposed to do. What would Ned think? What would Heaven?

Ben watched as the man was forced to stand on the block. Price offers were shouted out and the boy winced at the meager amounts that were suggested. True, the slave was thin and not in the best of shape, but the same applied to all of them. Was human life really worth so little? Again Ben toyed with the idea of saying something. Anything he said would be ignored. Maybe if he was in an open market he could appeal to the masses, but this was a private auction. These buyers had already damned their souls, and there would be no going back.

Lost in thought, Ben missed what the final bidding was, but the slave was led off and the next man in line was brought up. This time Ben made sure to pay close attention to the transaction. Portuguese was the language being used. He doubted that he would be sent to Europe, since escape would be as simple as opening his mouth. No, he would most likely be sent to some South American country, or possibly sold to another African slave trader.

The auction continued and suddenly Ben found himself being led towards the block. A primal fear took ahold of him then. Despite earlier convictions he began to fight against his captor, but froze when he felt the pointed end of a spear poke against his back. More pressure was applied, forcing Ben to step on top of the block. Once again rage filled his soul, but he remained silent, only glaring at the crowd of buyers around him and trying to meet as many eyes as he could.

Ben could feel his body tensing up, knew that his face was probably turning red from anger. Blood rushed through his ears and he could barely make out the words that were being said about him. He understood enough to know they were labeling him as a murder sentenced to hard labor. He was sure that none of the buyers actually believed the lie, just as he believed that none of them cared. The feeling of blood pounding in his ears subsided and suddenly, Ben felt cold. He began to shiver in anger, no longer sweating from the heat, but from the injustice of it all. He hoped the men took these signs as weaknesses. Then they would underestimate him, just as so many other villainous people had in the past. A price rang out, and then it was over. Ben stepped off the block, glad to be no longer touching it. He allowed himself to be marched off to the side to await whatever fate his new master had in store for him. Once again he was locked in chains.

As he was being led away, Ben closed his eyes and sent out a thought to his dog, knowing that his friend would not be able to hear it. _I'm sorry Ned. I know that I probably should have escaped at some point or another, but this is how our lives go eh? I want you to know that I don't blame you for not showing. I only hope that you're okay, since it would have taken a lot to keep you away. Anyway, just so you know, I'm going to keep talking to you. Even if I'm on the other side of the world, I'm going to pretend that you're right there beside me. Try not to worry about me too much; you know that I can handle myself alright. The Angel said we'd see each other again and the Angel hasn't been wrong yet. Anyway, I'm about to be taken inside a building now. Guess I should start being on the lookout. _

_I'll see you soon._

* * *

"_Ben_."

Ben blinked, suddenly once again aware of his immediate surroundings. At first he thought Ned had been commenting on his memory, a memory that he had kept private all these years. Then he realized that his dog was simply giving him a warning. He had been so caught up in his own memories that he had not noticed how close the storm had come towards the mainland. What had once been spray from the ocean were now rain drops.

"_You're running out of time mate. If you're sure you want to do this, you need to do it now_."

The boy's fist tightened against the tool handle. Was he sure he wanted to do this?

Hell yes.

"_Three years Ned_," He thought bitterly, wondering if it was rain or tears he felt falling down his cheek. "_Three years they kept us away from each other_."

He wanted to let it all go. The hate, the regret, the fear; every emotion he had felt during those three years alone. It had happened decades ago and he had done his best to move past the entire ordeal. What was three years out of centuries? Still, in the back of his mind he knew that one day he would have to come back to this spot. It was the only way he could forget completely.

Using his free hand to wipe the moisture off of his face, he then took a deep breath. Turning his back to the sea, he walked back and stood a foot away from the block. Then he raised the sledgehammer.

Finally.

* * *

To be continued in

_Fallen_

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I got this idea from a scene from an episode of Anthony Bourdain of an image of the gate, the block, and the sea. I used several first-hand accounts such as journals written by Fredrick Douglass and such to research. Look at me giving credit and shit. Be impressed! Cough cough, since this is fanfiction though, I'm not going to actually cite so yeah...

Anyway, Part 2 of this tale is going to be what the end result of Ben being sent to only-I-know-where is. Don't worry folks, there is still lots of emotional pain and suffering to be had!

And if you still don't feel like ripping out your heart after that, Part 3 is going to be their reunion. Just like any other good writer, I always put my characters back together after I'm done making their lives suck. Sorry I'm not sorry, but Brian Jacques did it not only first (Petros), but also second (Voyage of Slaves).

So yeah. Castaway5 out!


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